


i love you (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?)

by kritiquer



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, entry for the coc 19 prompt, fav trope/cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritiquer/pseuds/kritiquer
Summary: It was too hard, watching him fall deeper in love with Agatha and pretending like it didn’t bother him. In another world, maybe, there’s a Baz strong enough to repress his feelings enough to stay Simon’s best friend. But in this one, Simon’s eyes are a tad bit too blue and his smile a smidge too bright for Baz to look away.or, a friends-to-lovers au
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 10
Kudos: 152
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	i love you (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?)

The first time Baz sees him, it’s outside his teacher’s classroom. She’s partly blocking the doorway, and her rings clack pleasantly against the doorframe as she taps against it, all while speaking softly to the boy in front of her. Distress cries out in the wrinkle between his brows, his lips turned down slightly in a subconscious pout. 

Baz doesn’t catch what she says to make the boy nod solemnly, but his pout is replaced with a shy smile when she bends down to grasp him in a swift hug, before pulling away and turning to look at Baz instead. 

“Basil!” She exclaims, and he knows she’s about to spout one of her ideas on him. And as much as Baz loves Ms. Rosemary, sometimes even he can’t stand them. 

“Yes, Ms. Rosemary?” 

“Basil,” she brings the boy in front of her, and straightens herself off the door frame. “This is Simon Snow. He just moved here, and I think the two of you would be very good friends.” 

\------

As it turns out, this was one of Ms. Rosemary’s better ideas, and he made sure to get her a lovely gift during Christmas as a thank you. Simon was exactly what Baz had needed in a best friend: at least as a six-year-old. He would split his scones with Baz secretly during English behind their books, and was killer at dodgeball: both feats that had earned him the title of Baz’s closest and most treasured friend. It was enough for now, and he became a constant in Baz’s childhood from then on. The days had blurred into sleepovers at Baz’s house and Simon watching movies while Baz read in the background, an easy comfort that had come from spending ample amounts of time together. 

They were almost 11 now, and Baz couldn’t picture his life without Simon in it, the one thing that stayed constant even when everything else skittered away. 

“Baz,” Simon poked his shoulder with the end of his pencil, repeating the action until Baz sighed and looked up. 

“What is it? I’m trying to read,” he held up the book as evidence, but there was no true annoyance behind his words. 

“That girl won’t stop glaring at you. The one with the purple hair.” 

“Penelope Bunce,” Baz supplied immediately, his eyes drifting back to the book. 

“Yeah, her. Why is she glaring at you like that?” 

“Because I checked out the last copy of this book, and now she has to wait till I finish it to read it herself.” 

“Haven’t you read it already?” At Baz’s hum, he continues. “I think you should let her read it, Baz. Really.” 

“And why is that?” 

“It’s the right thing to do, Baz,” Simon explains. “It’s nice.” 

And Baz wants to argue, to say that he isn’t nice, that he never was and never will be. Almost as if Simon took all of the niceness he could’ve had, being nice enough for both of them. Baz wasn’t bitter, of course, he’d have given it to Simon willingly anyway. He’d give Simon anything, really, if he asked, but this was something that Baz refused to dwell on. Simon was his best friend, wasn’t it natural he’d feel this way? So he simply nodded and passed the book to Penelope Bunce, who smiled at Simon, and nodded at Baz appreciatively. And just like that, all because of Simon Snow, he had made another friend. 

* * * 

The fight came out of nowhere. Simon had been getting ready for his date with Agatha--his girlfriend of almost a year--and was holding up hangers to his chest to show Baz, who was trying not to react to any of them. It was a waste of time, anyway, all of them looked stunning on Simon, who’d grown up absolutely gorgeous. His hair, curly and untameable as a child had only worsened with time, and now it lay atop his head in messy golden loops that caught the light wherever he went. 

He held up a dark blue shirt, and Baz felt his breath catch. It brought out the darker blues in Simon’s trite blue eyes, creating a subtle shadow. Simon looked at him questioningly, and Baz almost said  _ no, don’t wear that shirt, wear anything else.  _ But Simon was his best friend, and what type of best friend would he be if he didn’t let Simon look his best for a date? 

Except Simon frowned, and accused Baz of trying to make him look terrible for the date, which had come out of nowhere and was clearly him lashing out about something entirely unrelated to the shirt. 

But Baz stubbornly took the bait, and they’d launched themselves into the first fight they’d had in years. Neither of them liked to fight; they were both too close to each other, and the arguments got more personal, the insults growing increasingly harsher. 

Baz had mentioned how much he despised Agatha without meaning to, and it had done nothing but further escalate the situation. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t be best friends, then. We don’t match anyway.” 

“Simon, you don’t mean that.” 

“Stop telling me what I do and don’t mean! I don’t think we fit anymore, Baz.” 

Baz caught the underlying statement,  _ just leave.  _

And so he did. 

*** 

They hadn’t spoken in months, and in that time Bunce had taken Simon’s side (of course) leaving Baz with his old friends Dev and Niall. Who had both, conveniently, decided to leave the library minutes before Bunce herself came strolling in, making her way to Baz’s table. 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” 

Baz ignores the lead snapping off his pencil tip and continues writing, forcing his eyes to stay on the page and not wander up to where Bunce stands, undoubtedly with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed to slits. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds calmly, flipping the page. “Simon’s my friend and so I love him, sure.” 

He hears the chair scrape against the floor as Bunce sits down, grabbing the pencil out of his hand before he has a chance to stop her. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Isn’t that your problem, then?” 

“Baz,” she says sternly, and he finally meets her gaze. 

Suspicion dominates her look, but there’s a small ebb of something else fluttering within. It takes a moment for Baz to recognize it, and he softens his tone when he does. Concern. Small but enough for Baz to remember that he and Penny were friends once, a time before Simon Snow and before they’d become academic rivals. 

“What do you want me to say, Bunce? That I’m hopelessly in love with someone I used to call my best friend before I fucked that up and now I’m nothing more than one of his hundred admirers?” 

“You’re not,” Bunce lightly rests her hand against his as she gets up, adjusting her bag against her shoulder. “Just another admirer, that is. You’re his best friend, Baz, you always have been.” 

“That isn’t enough, is it? It’s too hard,” Baz confesses, tracing a pattern on the table. 

It  _ was _ too hard, watching him fall deeper in love with Agatha and pretending like it didn’t bother him. In another world, maybe, there’s a Baz strong enough to repress his feelings enough to stay Simon’s best friend. But in this one, Simon’s eyes are a tad bit too blue and his smile a smidge too bright for Baz to look away. 

“You know what, Baz? Why don’t you try talking to him?” 

“I can’t.” And with that he shuffles his things together and drops them in his backpack, leaving before Bunce has the chance to get another word out. 

***

“Baz,” an achingly familiar voice calls his name, and Baz anticipates it before he feels it: Simon’s tell-tale pencil end against his arm. “Can I borrow a piece of paper?” 

Baz nods and turns around to hand it over, careful not to look at Simon. He doesn’t want to see the indifference on his face, the subtle hurt at Baz’s random distancing. But Simon clears his throat, and Baz, a constant disappointment to himself, meets his eyes. 

They’re carefully shielded, and Baz realized with a start that he could barely read them as well as he used to. Simon smiles at him slightly, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ as Baz nods again, before turning back around. 

It isn’t until close to the end of the class until he feels the tap of a pencil again, and a paper being passed to him. He opens it gingerly, tracing a fingertip over the messily written words. Less messy than usual, he notes, and he smiles at the thought of Simon trying to tame his handwriting. 

_ Can we talk? I have scones I’ve missed splitting with someone.  _

There’s two boxes underneath, and it’s so utterly cute that Baz can’t help but tick “yes” and pass it back to Simon. And the smile on his face when he sees it, Baz thinks, is worth the heartbreak. 

***

He meets Simon on a bench in the park they used to frequent as children, and Simon waves the bag of scones in the air. 

Baz sits next to him, accepting half a scone and watching Simon push dirt around with the tip of his shoe. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Simon admits, “Listen Baz, I didn’t mean anything I said that day. It was stupid of me and I shouldn’t have any of it.” 

Baz nods, repeating the apology. It falls flat even to his ears, and so it comes as no surprise when Simon frowns. 

“Baz? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, Simon.” 

“Why didn’t you like it when Agatha and I were together?” Simon asks suddenly, apparently having reached a conclusion. 

_ Why don’t you talk to him?  _

Baz raises an eyebrow, and a sweet smile graces Simon’s face. 

“Say it,” Simon whispers. “Please.” 

And Baz looks at the boy in front of him, his constant throughout everything, and thinks of all the times they’d spent in this park together, never quite expecting it to turn out like this. 

“I love you, Simon,” he says softly, and Simon grins, pulling Baz to him. 

“Me too, Baz. I think I always have.” 

Simon kisses him softly, and pulls him into an embrace when they part. And as Baz hugs Simon tighter, he sends another thank you to Ms. Rosemary, who’d brought this gorgeous nightmare of a boy into his life in the first place. Because truly, when he thinks about it, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :) i'm sourcherrysconess on tumblr, come say hi!


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